


What Happens in Vegas

by depthsofmysol



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Drunkenness, Eames really should do his homework, First Time, M/M, New Year's Eve, Public Sex, Taxi Sex, Worlds worst case of blueballs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depthsofmysol/pseuds/depthsofmysol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? A certain point man and forger just might tell you otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [aeholidaybang](http://aeholidaybang.tumblr.com)

Vegas on any given day was a pickpocket's dream. The number of people meandering down the streets, engrossed in their own conversations as they made their way from one casino to the other, not really paying attention to their surroundings or their belongings; it was enough to tempt even the most amateurish of thieves. During the holidays, the temptation only grew as the amount of distracted foot traffic doubled. Were it not for the fact he'd been brought to the city for an assignment, Eames might have actually indulged himself. Instead he found himself wandering through the fifth casino of the day.

Boredom was something that seemed to come over him more often than not. And had it not been for the fact that Mal had asked, begged him to help out with their job, he would have never stepped foot in the aptly named _Sin_ City. The chance to practice the skills that made him the thief he was aside, Las Vegas just wasn't a place he would normally seek out. Too many cameras, too many law enforcement officers, and too high a risk of getting caught. A challenge on any good day in any other city.

Unfortunately Eames could never deny his childhood friend anything; least of all help when it came to whatever stint Cobb had roped them into. Which was why he hadn't bothered to ask for particulars, trusting that Mal wouldn't have brought him all the way from Athens for nothing. If the job had required a forger and she'd asked for him, he would be there. No matter what. And having arrived a day before he had to meet the others, wandering the casinos and picking the pockets of those who were far too engaged in their conversations seemed like a better way to spend his time.

Or it had been until he realized how easy it was. Almost _too_ easy, he thought, walking into the building. For a brief moment, Eames had thought about slipping into one of the many games he'd seen during his explorations, just to see how long it would take the establishment to figure out he was cheating. The only thing that stopped him had been the possibility of Mal finding out, and the _conversation_ that would ensue afterwards. It only took once, being yelled at, in _French_ no less, before he'd made a mental note _never_ to get on her bad side again.

This particular casino, like the previous four, was similar in layout – the sound of the gaming machines loud enough to lure anyone in, the art deco enticing those who weren't into gambling. The only difference being a sign mentioning a New Year's Eve party. There was nothing more enticing than a large group of people gathered in one location, and casually checking his watch, Eames noticed there were only a couple more hours to go before the clock struck midnight. Everyone would be so caught up in the moment he could probably clean out most everyone in the room before they even noticed. But was it something he really wanted to do?

He had nothing _but_ time to kill and as he followed the signs, couldn't help but pick up a few _items_ along the way. None of them worth all the effort and Eames casually dumped them into the nearest bin knowing someone would turn them into the casino eventually. At this point it was mostly for fun and entering the club, wondered if maybe it was time to pick up a new hobby.

Or maybe something that wasn't quite so ostentatious. The club was filled with people of varying ages and even more varying wardrobe choices. Eames on the other hand, had decided to go with his standard salmon paisley button down and olive trousers. It allowed him to blend in on the casino floors. But in the club? He was standing out more than he would have preferred. Blending in allowed him to move amongst the crowd and pilfer whatever he wanted. Standing out, unfortunately, meant more eyes would be on him.

It wasn't anything new and making his way through the crowd, found that he'd actually kept his hands to himself. Well, mostly to himself. There had been the occasional bump and a few times he'd felt someone grab hold of his arse, but he hadn't found anyone that piqued his interest enough to pilfer something from. Which in all honesty was a shame. Normally he would have found someone by now. Maybe it was a sign that he needed to find _another_ establishment.

Just as Eames was about to walk out, his eyes focused on a well dressed man sitting off by himself. Either he wasn't the sort to dance, or he really was sitting in a club by himself. Something about that seemed _off._ Who in their right mind would go to a club and not make an attempt at picking someone up?

Then again it was quite possible the man was there with his wife, or girlfriend. From where he was standing, it was impossible to tell. There was also something about the way he was dressed. Even though it was hard to tell, he could see the man was dressed to the nines – a well tailored suit, and waistcoat. It could have meant trouble. Or it could have meant a challenge.

Either way it gave Eames something to do. And here he thought his night was only going to go down hill. With him sitting at a table, picking his pocket was going to be a bit more difficult and his usual trick of bumping into someone wouldn't work. There was always waiting until he got up but then he could be standing there all night. _Nothing_ came to mind in terms of getting what he wanted.

Not until he saw the man heading towards one of the many hallways that littered the club. Eames knew he couldn't have planned it any better himself. And without thinking twice, made his way through the crowd towards the man in the suit. He knew he had to plan it just right. Otherwise the mark would know he'd had something stolen and would be after him faster than he could get away.

"'Scuse me," he apologized, having already lifted the man's wallet. Up close, Eames almost felt a little guilty. But after one quick glance knew whomever it was could afford to replace whatever he had in his wallet. He was also grateful that the crowd seemed to be growing in number; which meant it had been easier than he expected.

Ducking through the crowd he darted down the first hall he came to, waiting until he was further away from the noise before daring to glance at his prize. After a few dozen steps Eames figured it was safe enough, and had just dug the wallet from his pocket when he felt the muzzle of a gun shoved into his back.

"I think you have something that belongs to _me,_ " Arthur demanded clicking the safety off, and shoving barrel of his Glock into the man's back.

Should anyone ask why he'd allowed his wallet, the one containing not only his forged identity but his real one as well, to be separated from his person, Arthur would have informed them that it was due to the copious amounts of alcohol he'd inhaled during his day of _observing_ their forger. Every casino he followed the man into he'd been offered at least a handful of drinks. And he couldn't just turn them down either. Not without drawing attention to himself. So he'd made an attempt at pacing himself. Something he'd failed miserably at judging by the fact he had to concentrate on the gun in his hand, and _not_ the atrocious outfit Eames just happened to be wearing.

"Well," he once again demanded, shoving his gun just a little further into the forger's back, "and tell me you've yet to actually look through it."

"No, I haven't," came the reply, and Eames' curiosity was now piqued. When he'd first spotted the man, his first instincts had been to just leave and forget about him. Nothing good ever came from a man dressed like that. But now? Ignoring his instincts had been one of the better ideas he'd had. Even if it meant being at gun point. At least he'd gotten the man's attention.

"Good," he huffed, and hastily grabbed his wallet from the out stretched hands ignoring the spark he felt when their fingers briefly touched. Arthur had done plenty of research on Eames, and all of it said he was a good thief. Tonight was definitely proof of that. But it also said he was a good forger, and short of taking him down into a dream, there was no way for him to know that. He was just going to have to trust Mal; not something he was looking forward to.

What the research hadn't told him, on the other hand, was just how good looking Eames was in person. Of course that may have been the alcohol talking, but the images he'd seen during his research hadn't done the man justice. Now, that they were standing together, Arthur was a little nervous about turning the man around. What if –

"You treat everyone this way? Or did you make some sort of exception for me?"

Most situations, Eames could get out of with nothing more than his charm. This particular one, with all the people around and the likelihood of the gun going off higher than normal, flirting with the man probably wasn't going to work. Didn't mean he wasn't going to at least try. The man had caught his eye in the club and now, knowing he was there behind him, all he wanted to do was turn around and look at him properly. The only thing stopping him was the gun. Being shot outside of a dream wasn't something he wanted to experience again.

"What? No," Arthur snapped, forcibly turning Eames back 'round so they were facing each other, "only those idiots brazen enough to steal from me."

And he was right. Even though the hallway where he'd followed Eames down was dark, what little light there was was more than enough to prove him right. Their forger was _definitely_ more attractive in person. Arthur had told himself, _promised_ even, that he wouldn't get involved with those he worked with. The fallout from his little affair with an extractor in Prague was still fresh in his mind. But he could indulge himself, right? One time wouldn't affect their assignment, would it?

"Oh really?" It was a challenge. Pure and simple. The three piece suit, the warm, chocolate eyes, and matching hair – Eames was wondering just how quickly he could divest the man of his clothing, and take him right then and there. He'd never really had a _type_ , per say, but if he did the man standing in front of him would definitely be it.

"Really," he replied, softly, holstering his gun before placing his hands on Eames' chest, and pushing him back against the wall. Arthur would most certainly be tempting fate, but seeing the mischievous look on the forger's face, it was a risk he was willing to take. And it would only be _one_ time. Not the multiple times that had finally come to an end in Prague. _This_ was something he could handle. Lesson learned, he reminded himself.

Stepping closer, Arthur could only hope he hadn't made a fatal error, and misread everything that was coming off of Eames. If he had it would make the job all the more awkward. Especially as they were going to be working together for the next three weeks. But it was a risk he was willing to take, he again reminded himself, and leaned in, pressing his mouth to the forger's. The moan that came moments later was all the incentive he needed and decided to push his luck, licking his way into the forger's mouth.

Of all the scenarios that Eames had played out in his head, _this_ definitely wasn't one of them. It took his brain all of thirty seconds to catch up and moaning into the kiss, quickly reversed their positions, shoving the dark haired man back up against the wall and thrusting his thigh between his legs. Sex in a public place wouldn't be his first choice, but in an establishment like this it would make the act all the more thrilling. Even more so knowing the man he'd pinned to the wall was desperate for it, if what he felt against his own thigh was any indication.

"Is _this_ what you had in mind?" He whispered across the other man's ear, "all you had to do was ask."

Arthur couldn't help the involuntary shiver the instant he heard, and _felt,_ Eames' breath across his ear. His voice was like silk, and was already doing multiple things to his traitorous body. It wasn't helping that he kept rutting against the forger's leg like some hormonal teenager. It was more than just a little embarrassing. Especially as whatever plan he had in mind when he followed him down the hallway was gone, replaced with one thing and one thing only – relieve the painful bulge in his pants.

"No," came the forced reply, "though if you're offering," he added, moving his hands down to Eames' ass. The way they were standing, there was no way he could get enough friction to get the relief his body was demanding. And Arthur wasn't the type to have sex in public. Not if he could help it. And there was absolutely no way he was bringing the forger back to the house he'd rented outside of town. Which meant one thing – they would either end up getting off in the hallway, or Eames would take them back to his hotel room. The latter being preferred to the former.

"Oh, I think it is," he purred, running his hand down the man's chest, and palming the obvious erection in his trousers, "you weren't able to take your eyes off me. I notice these things, you see, and I think this is _exactly_ what you wanted." Again, Eames found himself grinning against the man's neck, as he felt another shiver run through his body. Without even a moment of hesitation, he undid the man's belt with one hand, and proceeded to unbutton his trousers, before slipping his hand down, and curling his hand around the man's cock.

"No, not here," he moaned as his head hit the wall behind him, and his hips involuntarily thrust up into Eames' fist. Arthur didn't want anyone to see them – _him_ – like this; weak, pliant, and unable to control himself. It went against everything he knew, everything he was, and his slightly controlling nature. No if they were going to go through with this, it would have to be somewhere private, somewhere no one else could see him.

"Are you _certain_?" Eames asked, gently stroking the man. He was already beyond turned on; each sound that came from the other making him harder than he'd been in a long time. There was just something about the dark haired man that not only piqued his curiosity, but had him wanting to know more about him. The suits aside, the man was an enigma just waiting to be solved. But if the man wanted to go somewhere else there was always his hotel room on the far end of the strip.

" _Yes_ , quite certain," he whispered, even though his own body kept saying no. It felt too damn good, and while he didn't want it to stop, Arthur knew he'd rather not get caught by the club's security. Explaining _that_ , of all things, to Mal would mean far more questions than he would be comfortable with answering. There was also the fact that he was a _professional_ , and as such, getting caught was completely out of the question. One look at Eames, though, and for a brief moment he thought getting caught would be worth whatever berating they would get from Mal.

"Okay," was his reply, slightly disappointed at the decision. Eames was many things, and some not quite as honourable as others, but he was _always_ a gentleman. And as hard as it was for him to remove his hand from the other man's cock, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off him, the groan that came afterwards made it _all_ worth it. He didn't even bother to help tuck the other man back in instead waiting for the right moment before caging him against the wall once again.

"Don't expect me to keep my hands off you," he whispered, nipping at the skin along the other man's throat while still palming the obvious bulge in his pants, "but I do have a perfectly good room that's going to waste."

And what better way to use it, he mused. Eames hadn't expected to find this sort of fun, preferring to keep his mind on the job. Luckily he wasn't _technically_ on the job, which meant he could actually use his room for pleasure instead of just for sleeping.

"Do you think it's possible for us to _leave_ ," Arthur begged, his eyes frantically looking for the footsteps he swore were getting closer by the moment. Again, he didn't want to be found out. Not because he was with another man. But because he was a professional, and he loathed public displays such as being groped, or manhandled. Things like what they were currently doing were better off left behind closed doors.

"Shh, poppet," he whispered against the man's lips, hoping to soothe the fear he heard in his words, "c'mon. Shouldn't be too hard to find taxi."

Eames had always been good at reading people, and while the low light meant it was a bit more difficult to read the man he'd caged against the wall, his words, and quickening pulse under his lips told volumes. Many things ran through his head, and on any given day he would have actually given them pause. Tonight? Tonight was all about taking him apart bit by bit, and grabbing his hand lead them back through the crowd, and out of the club.

"You are even _more_ gorgeous now that I can see you properly," he purred, dragging the other man closer, "though once I'm done with you, you'll look thoroughly debauched," Eames added, allowing his free hand to rest on the other's hip. In the bright light of the hallway he could finally take in every bit of the man he'd targeted. And giving him the once over, honestly didn't want to wait until they got back to his hotel room, on the _far_ end of the strip, before having his way. There was always the taxi…

Arthur had a bad feeling that Eames was going to be the death of him. His words, his _accent_ , floating across his ear, had him whining. Not loud enough for any passers-by to hear but just loud enough to affect the forger. This was a new thing for him, remembering that all his previous encounters were _never_ like this. None of the others had affected him like this. It actually scared him, had him wondering if maybe this wasn't going to be a one time thing like he'd hoped.

It _had_ to be, he quickly reminded himself. Arthur wasn't about to get into the habit of sleeping with co-workers. Not when they tended to make working conditions more than just awkward. Whatever attraction he held for Eames was thanks to the alcohol and nothing more.

"I swear," Eames sighed, his own resolves slowly leaving him. He'd told the man they would return to his hotel room, before they did anything. But standing there, watching, _listening_ to the sounds he was eliciting, made the temptation to take him right then and there all the more difficult to resist. At least he could take some sort of odd comfort in knowing his companion for the night was having just as much trouble keeping his resolves as he was.

Grabbing his hand once again, he quickly lead them through the rest of the casino, against the crowd that seemed to be heading towards the club they'd just left. He'd never been one for celebrations and had only been in the club because of boredom. Now, though, he was thinking some holidays were worth celebrating, and dragging them out of the building, and into the cool night air, was glad that Mal had asked him to come to Vegas. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have met the man in the suit and been given the opportunity to unwrap him like some sort of belated Christmas present.

"Looks like we have our choice," he teased, leading them up to one of the cabs, and opened the door, gently shoving his companion in, before following behind him. "The Luxor, please," he informed the driver and quickly turned his attention towards the man beside him, allowing his hand to run up and down his thigh. Eames had already told him that he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself, and nipped at his neck again, allowing his hand to rub against the bulge in his pants.

"Fuck," Arthur whined, again finding it impossible to keep his hips from jerking up into the touch. He wanted it and more. But they were in a cab, and space was tight, and there was no way anything other than a quick hand job was going to happen. That didn't mean he couldn't at least enjoy _whatever_ was going to happen.

"Come here," Eames whispered, hoping the fact that the other man had jerked his hips up into his grasp was proof enough that he would be willing to try something in the taxi. Waiting until they got to his hotel room, while being the best option, just wasn't soon enough for him. He wanted him _now_ , and he'd compensate the driver for whatever problems they may have with what they were about to do.

"Are you _serious_?" The words came out of Arthur's mouth before he could stop them. Looking over at Eames, he watched as the man had procured a condom, from where he honestly didn't want to know, and was rolling it onto his cock. It was something that had always been a turn on for him, and any other time he might have enjoyed the scene playing out in front of him.

Now, though, all he could do was fumble with his belt, hastily undoing the button on his pants, and lowering his zipper. He was crazy. Arthur knew it was a risk doing this. But a small part of him was actually turned on by it, wondering if he'd been missing out on something more.

"I rarely joke about something like this," was his reply, as he gently pulled the man over top of him, and brought their bodies together in one quick motion. The stimulation was more than he was prepared for, and instead of crying out, like he normally would, Eames bit down onto the man's shoulder, wishing it was bare skin instead of the fabric of his suit. After a few moments, and some moans from both of them, he felt comfortable enough to start moving his own hips, his fingers clamping down on the man's hips hard enough to leave bruises.

Arthur wasn't even sure what he was prepared for. The instant he felt Eames' cock enter him, his world was awash in white lights and noise. He knew enough _not_ to yell, even though for a brief instant his body was crying out in pain. Now, though, feeling the forger's hips move up and down, forcing his cock into him, the pain was replaced with pleasure. Lots of pleasure. And were they not in some _cab_ , he might have expressed said pleasure. Instead, all he could do was wrap his hands around Eames' wrist, and ride out whatever he had planned.

"Christ, you feel good," he moaned, wishing they had more room to work with. Eames wasn't one to take things slowly, preferring fast and hard. But their limited space made anything more than his current pace difficult. And combine that with the moans he was eliciting from the man in his lap, he was seriously starting to rethink his current action.

Unfortunately, it was the sound of their driver clearing their throat no less, that finally brought him back to the reality of their situation. His frustration wasn't something he wanted to make known, and gently lifted the man off of him, and stripped himself of the condom. Eames wasn't too sure where he would dispose of it but he figured there was bound to be a place inside the lobby of the hotel. The hardest part was going to be getting from the cab to the lift. He was quite certain his erection was visible and no amount of clothing could hide it.

And glancing over at the man next to him, there was _definitely_ no way to hide the bulge in his pants. At least one of them had no shame in what they were doing. Why should he? Eames had never had any sort of problem with who he was, and if someone saw them, someone saw them. His companion on the other hand seemed more like the closeted type; which was fine. It just meant a little bit more work. Work he had no problem doing. _If_ his friend was willing to go along with him. Judging by the amount of guilt across his features, it was going to be a big _if_.

 _Fuck_. Arthur still couldn't figure out what the fuck he was thinking when he'd agreed to _whatever_ it was they'd just engaged in. Had it not been for the noise from the driver alerting them they were at the hotel, he was quite certain they would have given everyone _quite_ the show. Even worse, he could feel the blush of embarrassment all over his face. Which meant it was also on the tips of his ears.

Whatever professionalism just went right out the door. Almost literally. He was an idiot. Plain and simple. Maybe he could find a way of getting back to the house he'd rented, and just let Eames go off to his room by himself. Or maybe…

"Come on. I promise, it will be worth it." It was easy to read the doubt on his companion's face. Eames could also see just how red he was and wondered if it was because they'd been caught or the fact that they might have given anyone who was standing outside the hotel a show. Now more than ever, he wanted to take this man apart and see just what it was that made him tick.

"Alright," he finally agreed. Arthur still wasn't sure _how_ he was going to hide the tent in his pants and as he got out of the cab, thought his jacket might actually do the trick.

As he watched Eames take care of their driver, he stripped himself of the jacket, and draped it over his right arm, hoping that if he held it close to his body it would hide his raging erection. And if it didn't? Given the fact it was late at night the only people he had to worry about were adults, complete strangers really. No one would find out, he reminded himself. No one – not Mal, not Dom, _no one_.

The walk from the front of the hotel to the lift had been relatively uneventful. No one even gave them any sort of look, even though Arthur was quite certain they were both walking a little – _funny_. He still couldn't believe what he'd done, even though there was a small part of him that was still humming with the thrill of it all. In their line of work the excitement came from the dream, not reality. But what Eames had asked him to do had him feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time.

And following the forger into the elevator, didn't bother waiting until the doors were closed before he shoved the man against the far wall, muttering "shut up," as he crushed their mouths together. Arthur didn't care if anyone was with them or if anyone was watching. He just wanted that adrenaline rush that he'd felt, that brief instant of excitement from the cab.

Again the dark haired man had surprised him. First time back at the club, and now here in the lift. Eames wasn't too sure what to make of him, other than the fact that he was desperate for something he seemed to be lacking in life. He wasn't about to turn him down, though he did need to make certain the lift wouldn't just sit on the ground floor. Something told him being caught by hotel security would be a lot worse and garner far more disapproving looks.

"And here I thought you didn't want to be caught," he teased, pushing the man back and reaching around him to hit the button for the 32nd floor, "you're just full of surprises, aren't you." Frustration was only part of the equation. Eames had never really been the patient type but his companion for the evening was someone he could try to be patient for. The sorts of images that were going through his head at the moment were enough of a tease that he pulled the man back, wanting another taste of him before the lift spit them out onto his floor.

Instead, he was pushed back against the wall and before he could even voice his opinion, heard the zip of his trousers being lowered. Eames knew _exactly_ what was coming next and couldn't even form words the instant his cock was enveloped in the warmth of his companion's mouth. Usually, he was the one giving, always preferring it to receiving. But this man? He was good. To the point, that his hips were involuntarily jerking into his mouth, and his hand was trying to fist some of his companion's hair. His tongue, the pressure, even the man's teeth –

"Christ," he moaned, "fuck, fuck, stop," he quickly added, pushing the other man away. Eames knew he was close. Closer than when they'd been in the cab and needed to stop before all their fun came to a premature end. He also happened to notice that they were almost to his floor and should anyone be there, they would have gotten more of an eyeful. More than even he was willing to give.

Being pushed back, Arthur had to admit, was a little bit of a disappointment. Especially as he'd finally felt the beginnings of the rush he'd felt back in the cab. He wasn't scared, he was curious. Had he always been like this? Or had Eames unlocked something he didn't even realize he needed? Whatever it was he didn't care. It was something he would probably end up chasing the rest of his life, knowing that he would never find it again.

"I'm just _full_ of surprises," he whispered against the forger's lips, wondering if Eames could taste himself on his lips. Arthur would never admit it, but he actually enjoyed tasting himself on someone else's lips; something about the way the flavours mixed together. And he wanted more; more of whatever it was he was tasting. Whether it was Eames or the alcohol they'd both had consumed or a mixture of the two, it didn't matter. He just wanted _more_.

Biting the forger's bottom lip, encouraged by the moan he got in return, Arthur stepped even closer, and rested his hands on the other man's hips. While he'd been forced to stop his previous action there was no way he was going to stop kissing Eames. Not unless he was forced to.

And judging by the sound of someone gasping in surprise, he was going to be forced to stop _once again_. It was frustrating, as if karma or some other universal entity had it out for him. Or maybe it was a sign, maybe it was something telling him that sleeping with a co-worker was a bad idea. He'd learned that lesson already, but he couldn't resist the forger. _Once_ wasn't going to kill him. Not unless something happened between the elevator and his hotel room.

Eames couldn't help but chuckle, watching the man in his arms turn bright red and rest his head against his shoulder. He'd tried to warn him, tried to give him some sort of clue that they were short on time. And for a brief moment he thought he'd gotten the message through. Then he moved forward and started to snog him and his resolves just melted. Though he had to admit, his companion was cute when flustered. More so than when he'd seen him outside of the club. It was a shame he wouldn't be able to see more of him flushed in the shade of red the tips of his ears currently were.

"Come on," he whispered, encouraging him to exit the lift, "room's not too far down and then I'll make it so you won't even remember all of this." The groan that followed his words only served to push Eames forward, grabbing the other's hand and quickly leading them down the hall. He was quite certain the housekeeper they'd seen as they exited the lift had seen far worse and wasn't bothered by it. The same, unfortunately, couldn't be said about his companion.

Standing in front of his door, it took Eames a few moments to dig the electronic keycard from his pocket. Not from nerves, of course. He'd done this plenty of times with many different types of people. Tonight really wasn't any different. The roaming hands of his _friend_ , on the other hand, were another story. It made digging through his pockets a bit more _challenging_. Especially when their hands were constantly colliding with each other. All in the search for something that shouldn't have been all that difficult to find.

After a few more moments and numerous hand swats, Eames finally felt the elusive card under his fingertips and without even so much as a second thought, dragged it from his pocket and slipped it into the lock. Any other time and he might have been a gentleman and not rushed things along. After their night? After trying and _failing_ three times already? He wasn't about to take any chances and having heard the door unlock, threw it open and shoved his companion into the room. And if he hadn't been right about his choice before, he was assured of it right then and there.

In the light of his room Eames could _definitely_ tell he'd made the right choice. His friend's back was to him and for a brief moment, he allowed himself the time to study just how well suited the man's clothes were. His suit was clinging to his body in all the right places and if he were honest with himself, couldn't wait to strip of each layer. Any other time and he would have enjoyed taking his time. Their night's _frustrations_ , unfortunately, were currently driving his decision making.

He could also tell his friend was starting to have second thoughts. His stiff posture, the fact he was probably thinking of ways out of the room, and he'd yet to remove his jacket – all signs that the brazen man he'd seen in the lift was quickly disappearing. And Eames couldn't allow that to happen. Not after their night. Normally the third time was the charm. Tonight it was going to be the fourth, if he had any say in it.

"Out," he purred across the man's ear, his one finger tapping against the side of his head, while the other rest on his hip, "I promised you I'd make you forget about the awkwardness of the evening, so just let me."

Tapping him on the head, hoping he might get his friend out of his own head for once, had Eames thinking it wasn't his best move. The room wasn't all that big and while it hadn't taken that many strides before he reached the other man, given the fact they were in closer proximity, tapping him on he head like he had could have provoked the type of response he usually avoided. Luckily he was rewarded with something he had hoped for – the man relaxed against him, and allowed the removal of his jacket.

It could have gone a lot worse, Eames reminded himself, wrapping his hands around the other's waist and drawing him even closer. Up until that particular moment, he hadn't had the time to really take in the treasure he'd found at the club. Now though, he could indulge himself. Just a little.

"Surely, the cat hasn't gotten your tongue," he whispered, nuzzling a spot behind the man's left ear, grinning at the fact he'd elicited yet _another_ shiver. Eames knew he had quite the ego and this particular night was only adding to it.

"No, no it – uh – hasn't," Arthur replied, toeing off his shoes. Were his alcohol levels not where they were, he would have done something the instant he felt the tapping against the side of his head. He probably also would have drawn his gun against the forger, and wouldn't that have made their night all the more interesting. Now, though, all he could think of was how fast he could divest Eames of his clothes and finish what he'd started in the elevator.

Turning 'round he took a moment to study Eames, to see just how good looking the man was. Between the lips that no man should legally have to his stormy blue-grey eyes, Arthur could see himself falling. He couldn't, _wouldn't_ , and pushing such thoughts aside, started to kiss him.

What was simple quickly turned into something wet and filthy, with hands tangling in clothes, and movement towards what Arthur could only assume was the bed. He didn't care about finishing what he'd started in the elevator. All he wanted was Eames and feeling the backs of his knees hit the bed, fell back, making certain he dragged the forger with him. His hands were still searching for skin and hastily made an attempt to untuck the forger's shirt from his pants.

"Not quite yet," Eames tuts, removing the hand he'd felt along his back, "I have plans for you. Just be patient." Staring down at the man beneath him he could see his pupils blown with desire, and as much as he just wanted to fuck the man right then and there, he wanted to at least make it memorable. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all.

Sitting back up, he chuckled at the beginnings of a frown that was forming on the man below him. Luckily he knew just the cure, and started to _slowly_ unbutton his own shirt, tossing it aside when he was done. He then started on the man below him, first with his waistcoat and then his tie, and finally the shirt. Eames had contemplated making some sort of joke about the amount of clothes he had on, but when his eyes landed on the body hidden beneath it all, he found himself momentarily breathless.

From afar, the man didn't look like someone who could take on someone like himself. But up close, Eames found himself staring at a man whose muscle was compact, more like a runner, than anything else. He also noticed a few scars, meaning it was possible they were both in the same line of work. What fascinated him the most, though, was the line of dark hair that started just below his bellybutton, and disappeared beneath his pants.

" _These_ , pet, are going to have to go," he warned, undoing the man's buckle and his pants, removing them and the boxers in one swift motion. If Eames was one thing it was efficient. Especially when it came to divesting someone of their clothes. And seeing the man spread out on the bed, his cock hardened against his own stomach, it was taking all his resolves not to just grab a condom from his suitcase and fuck him into the mattress.

"Scoot up the bed," Eames suggested, removing the last of his own clothes and grabbing the lube and condom from his suitcase, before tossing them on the bed and moved to settle between the other's legs. Grabbing his hips, he licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, and gently sucked the head in, trying not to smirk at the sounds he'd elicited from the other and the way his hips were arching up into his hands.

"Oh god," Arthur moaned, unable to string together any more than those two words. He'd been given blowjobs before. But never like _that_. Eames' tongue, the amount of pressure he used, and even the pace he was setting – it was all just _too_ much. His brain trying to go into sensory overload. When he felt the forger take his whole cock into his mouth, he _knew_ it wouldn't take long before he came. And in all honesty, he didn't want to. Not this way.

"Stop, stop, fuck, just – oh god, STOP," he begged. Arthur had felt the stirrings in his lower back, and _knew_ he was close.

"If you say so," Eames told him, peppering kisses up and down the man's thigh. The sounds that were coming from his mouth had only weakened his resolves and now that they'd stopped, all that he could think of was to grab the lube from the bed and pour a small amount on his fingers. As he adjusted his position, he nudged the man's knee and reached down, cautiously circling the man's hole. He honestly felt bad for the way he'd been in the taxi, and wanted to make certain this time around he was properly prepared.

Pressing his finger in past the ring of muscle, Eames paused as he felt the other man clench down around him. It only lasted a moment before he was relaxing again, and he pressed his finger in all the way to his third knuckle. He was honestly surprised to find the man still open enough from their encounter in the taxi and didn't bother with adding another finger, instead withdrawing it, much to his companion displeasure and sat back up.

" _Patience_ ," Eames purred, placing a small amount of lube on his own cock, before tearing open the condom, and rolling it on. He still couldn't get enough of the man spread out beneath him and placing the his knee on his shoulder, slowly pushed forward past the ring of muscle, until the head slipped in.

"Christ," he hissed out, waiting again until the other man stopped clenching down around him. Eames knew it would be a tight fit but he hadn't expected it to be like _this_. He'd been slightly preoccupied in the taxi to even think about all of that and now that they were there, he just wanted thrust his hips forward and force him to take it all at once, instead of the torturous slow place he was about to set.

"Move – just – move," Arthur begged, not wanting to deal with whatever slow pace Eames had decided upon, "I can handle it, just _move_."

With nothing more than a nodding of his head, Eames snapped his hips forward and thrust himself completely into the other man. If he thought things were tight before, it was nothing compared to right then and there. There was just the right amount of pressure and pulling back slightly, decided upon a pace that was rough and demanding. Each thrust was harder than the last and the sounds coming from them both, enough to potentially wake up the people that were staying on either side of him.

But Eames didn't care. He'd lost the ability to care the instant he'd started to fuck the man beneath of him. With each thrust, he could see him slowly come apart, his bottom lip being sucked in his mouth, and his hands desperately trying to reach for his own cock to bring about his release. Each time he tried, Eames swatted his hand away, wanting the honour himself.

Feeling the stirrings in the pit of his stomach, he curled his hands around the other man's cock and started to jerk him in similar rhythm to his thrusts. It didn't take long for the other man to come; the warmth, combined with his shouting out, forced him over the edge and with one last thrust, found himself joining the other man in bliss.

"God, you're even more gorgeous freshly fucked," Eames teased, barely finding his legs in time to walk to the bathroom and grab them a warm, wet towel to clean themselves up with. When he returned from the bathroom, the other man was sound asleep and taking the time to clean them both up, tucked the other man into the bed, before joining him for a well deserved rest.

The next morning, with the sun streaming into their room, Arthur woke to the feeling of a warm body behind him and a pounding in his head. There was a reason he rarely drank; especially in the excess he had the previous night. It left him with one hell of a hangover, very little patience, and made the rest of the day drag on. Today was probably going to be no different, and hoped a shower would at least improve his mood. Otherwise the awkwardness that he'd told himself wouldn't happen this time around would, and be a clear reminder on just why he shouldn't have slept with the forger.

Eames. His arm draped around his middle, a reminder that Arthur couldn't stay, couldn't indulge himself further than he already had. Being cleaned up and tucked into bed was nice, but it wasn't enough of a reason for him to stay. Not when he'd promised himself he wouldn't do this again. His breath, rhythmic on the back of his neck, a clue that this – whatever it was – wasn't going to be a one time thing. It couldn't be.

He _wanted_. And while the research showed Eames to be a man of many things, as long as they occasionally ended up in bed together, he could deal with anything else. Connections were a dangerous thing, and while Mal and Dom had proved to be successful, it could have been nothing more than a fluke.

A fluke he might one day indulge himself in. If he ever became bored of the job. Not something Arthur expected to happen, of course. But having a plan had never hurt him in the past.

Extricating himself from Eames' arms, and not at all surprised that the man was still sound asleep, Arthur quickly gathered all his clothes, and haphazardly put them back on. Any other time and he would have been meticulous about it all. But this morning, he just wanted to put some space between what had happened and himself. The longer he stayed in the room, the more likely he would just crawl back into bed and enjoy what was left of the morning.

At least until he had to get up _again_ and head to the house they'd rented for the job, possibly running into the Cobbs, which would lead to an explanation as to why he was late. It was a scenario he didn't want to play out, let alone think about. No, the sooner Arthur left the hotel room the better.

If only the guilt was so easily pushed aside. In all his previous encounters, Arthur had never had any problems just walking away and never looking back. In all honesty, it was something he preferred. Making a clean break and only dealing with them on a professional level. After the last disaster, it had seemed like the best way forward.

Until he met Eames and spent the day following him from casino to casino. Something in him changed, and making a clean break, no matter how much he wanted, just didn't seem plausible. And leaving like he had in the past just felt wrong. He'd made it as far as the bathroom before he'd turned around and wrote out a quick note, _Till we meet again, Mr. Eames –A_ , and placed it on the pillow where he'd slept only moments before. It was enough to temporarily alleviate his guilt, and leaving the room, concentrated on the fact he still had a lot to accomplish before meeting up with Dom and Mal.

Waking up a few hours later, Eames had a feeling the man he'd picked up at the club hadn't stuck around. Not because he was a heavy sleeper. The man didn't seem like that type – the type who would stick around longer than they needed to. Though he had to admit the note took him by surprise.

It also had him thinking of just _when_ he'd given the other man his name. As far as he could remember he'd never given it. And yet somehow, the other man had known. Eames figured it was probably nothing, or perhaps he'd seen the name in his wallet or something when he'd left earlier that morning.

Whatever the case may be, it didn't matter just how his dark haired friend figured out his name. It wasn't like they were going to see each other again. Even though the note had said otherwise, he was quite certain it was nothing more than a single hook-up. The criminal life wasn't really conducive to attachments. Then again neither was _his_ life. One night stands had served him in the past and even though the man had piqued his curiosity, self-preservation still won out in the end.

After a long, hot shower and breakfast, he took a taxi out past the far end of the strip, and out into the residential section of town. Las Vegas was a much different city during the day than at night. It wasn't humming with music. Instead it was humming with life, as crowds made their way along the pavement. Almost the perfect atmosphere to people watch. _If_ he weren't running slightly behind.

Eames still wasn't too sure _why_ Mal had decided to rent a house but as the taxi pulled up to the address he'd given the man, he had to admit it wasn't a bad idea. Normally they'd worked out of warehouses. A residential area was far less suspicious. Unless they were coming and going at all hours of the night. Then they would start to rouse the neighbours suspicion. And in their line of work, it wasn't something they could easily explain a way.

Pushing all of that aside, he made his way up towards the front door and wondered if he was the first to arrive. There was nothing to suggest that Mal or even her husband were there, and the house looked like no one actually lived there. Even though that was the way they tended to prefer things, it was just unsettling to see it from the outside looking in. As he tested the front door, he was surprised to find it actually unlocked. Eames had actually brought his lock picking kit had he needed it but stepping through the door he was glad he hadn't the need.

"Mal?" He called out, closing the door behind him.

"They won't be in for a couple more hours. Rough night," came the response, and for the first time in his life, Eames stood there in shock. There in the door way was the man from the previous night. Not just standing there, but actually speaking to him. And were it not for that fact, he would have actually pinched himself.

"You must be Mister Eames," the man continued, "you can call me Arthur. I've got some research for you if you'd like to come into the kitchen?"

Eames still had no idea what to say. Though it did go a long way in explaining just how the man – no, Arthur – had known his name. It also explained the eerie feeling he had most of the previous day.

"You were following me. Yesterday, I mean," he asked, though it came across more as a demand. Following him into the kitchen, Eames took notice of the slight blush that was creeping up the man's neck. Again, he was reminded of the night before, and how much he actually enjoyed watching the flush against his skin.

"Yeah I did. I'm a point man, meaning research is my strong point, not tailing someone," Arthur admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. It was the truth, and after what had happened last night it was the least he could do for Eames.

"And as much as I trust Dom, and Mal, I – I just had to find out for myself," he quickly added, not wanting to say that he wanted to make certain the forger was capable of watching their backs should something go wrong.

Covering the distance between the doorway, and where the point man was standing, Eames quickly backed the man into the far wall, and caged him between his arms. With their faces only inches apart, all he could think of was kissing Arthur, and dragging him up to the second floor to find out if they really had decked the house out with a bed.

"And just _what_ did you end up finding out?" He asked, his eyes constantly flickering between Arthur's eyes, and lips. It would be too easy to just close the distance and take what he wanted from the point man. Eames could easily see the desire flickering across the other man's eyes, and knew it would be reciprocated.

"That one day you just might be the death of me," Arthur admitted, looking down because he was unable to meet the forger's eyes. "Tonight. Seven sharp. Address is in the folder on your desk," he added, gently shoving Eames away. He'd heard the voices outside the door, and figured the Cobbs had found a way to get their earlier than he'd expected.

"Seven sharp it is, Arthur," he replied, knowing it was more likely to be the other way around, that the point man would end up being the death of him.


End file.
